Space (Laws of Physics #2)(45)

Which, since we’re all being honest with ourselves, was a fair assessment.

I breathed out. So much air left my body. All the air left my body with that exhale. And I smiled, this time true and genuine. And I laughed.

“Well. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, I think I’ve never heard anything better than that. Ever. In my whole life.”

Kaitlyn nodded, continuing to regard me with cautious bewilderment. “Thank you.”

“Kaitlyn’s mom is Senator Parker,” Allyn said, giving me a searching look. “And Kaitlyn is a composer. She wrote the musical accompaniment for Redburn’s ‘Hold A Grudge’ as well as a few of their other big singles.”

Oh!

Ah. I see!

Abram’s huge hit, number one single. When Connie Will had said Kaitlyn and Abram made music together, she must’ve been referring to the literal meaning of “making music.”

Kaitlyn and Allyn looked at me expectantly, like they were waiting for me to say or do something else ludicrous. But I wouldn’t. Jealousy had dissolved into self-recrimination with a hefty side-dose of confusion. My reaction to Kaitlyn’s hypothetical relationship had been strong—stronger than a gamma-ray burst, stronger than my sense of and commitment to rationality—and that was concerning.

Understatement!

Even so, I did my best to locate my composure before responding genuinely, “Congratulations, that’s so, so exciting. So happy for you. And Abram. For the song.”

“Mona hasn’t heard ‘Hold A Grudge’ yet.” Allyn turned to Kaitlyn, confiding in her like they were old friends. “But it’s been my favorite since I heard it the first time. You are so talented.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind,” Kaitlyn said to Allyn, sounding sincerely flattered, but then she shifted a penetrating gaze to me. “You haven’t heard ‘Hold A Grudge’?”

“Who hasn’t?” This question came from Jenny Vee, one of the ladies we’d gone sledding with earlier in the day. She was about halfway down the table and her voice carried, probably because she was the lead singer in her band, Fin. “Who hasn’t heard ‘Hold A Grudge’?”

Yikes!

I shook my head, sitting straighter, patting the table again, this time to get Jenny Vee’s attention. “Wait. Wait. No—”

But before I could say anything substantive, Kaitlyn talked over me, “Mona hasn’t heard ‘Hold A Grudge’ yet. She hasn’t heard Abram’s song.”

My now frantic gaze cut back to Kaitlyn. I found her head turned slightly, her stare scrutinizing as it moved over me. Clearly, she was having many thoughts.

Oh no.

“Abram!” This came from Nicole, the third member of Fin. “Where’s Ruthie? Since Mona is the last person in the world who hasn’t heard the song, you should play it for all of us, before you get tired of singing it on tour.”

OH MY GOD!

The fingers holding the fork under the table began to shake, so I covered it with my other hand. A cold sheen of sweat broke out all over my skin. My heart heaved itself into my mouth.

Meanwhile, everyone present erupted in support of this idea, but their encouragement was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing between my ears. Meanwhile, Kaitlyn and I continued our staring contest, her eyes now slightly narrowed, that rascally spark still present, but so was something else. . . suspicion.

But then I flinched, closing my eyes, because I heard Abram’s deep voice say, “If she wants to hear it, all she has to do is ask.”

I swallowed a knot, or many knots, or perhaps all the knots as cheers followed this news. I felt everyone’s eyes turn to me even though mine were closed. Beneath the table, I felt a hand close over mine and I didn’t flinch this time. It gave me the wherewithal to open my eyes.

Allyn was looking at me, sympathy and worry in her gaze, and she gave me an encouraging smile, seeming to communicate, You are a badass. I believe in you. You can get through this without making a spectacle of yourself. And then we will cuddle together while you cry.

Perhaps that wasn’t exactly what she sought to communicate, but I felt confident it was close enough.

The room was still a ruckus of excitement and armchair conversation about the likelihood of my never hearing the song.

“How is it possible someone hasn’t heard ‘Hold A Grudge’?”

“She must be the last person on earth to hear it.”

“I hear it ten times a day, no lie.”

“They have their instruments, right?”

“I don’t think Charlie brought his drums.”

“I hope he plays it. It would be cool to hear an acoustic version.”

But one comment in particular carried above the others, reaching me from Abram’s side of the table. “I guess rocket scientists don’t get out much.”

For some reason, the statement gave me the bravery I needed to lean forward and lock eyes with Abram, probably because the statement was true.

Try being honest for once.

I didn’t get out much, I got out never. And when I got out, I came to Aspen where I could be snowed in and not go out. I’d been living in limbo, in line, waiting in the silence.

Abram, relaxing in his chair, glared at me. His elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepled in front of him. He looked at ease, like a king holding court, and completely indifferent to whatever I might say.